bone dreaming
we rattle under ash
crisp as leaves
kissed of rime
bone dreaming
we slip that streaming
to rest at sieidi
longing of the everlast
bone dreaming
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bone dreaming
tossing a rune — 07nov25

ansuz burned onto
my heartwood black
hung over meltwaters
the old gals sing spears
to the blindA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts. By way of the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the rune is named æsc, which is translated to “ash”, a tree associated with Odin and is representative of resilience and strength.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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tossing a rune — 07nov25
nonsense verse
we cut away the fat:
there is sun, there is moon
there are seasons and stars
there is above and below
and there might even be here
there are stones and plants
the living and the dead
what more can
you really desire?To like/comment:
nonsense verse
Half-penny thoughts — 06nov25
Why is it that some of us are not allowed to be “not okay” in some manner or another? Why is it that we always seem to be the ones who have to be available?
And when we happen to be less than rosey, why do so many people act like it is less important than their own trials and tribulations?
Yeah. I know. There is no real answer to that question. Therefore, comments are closed. Food for thought is all, as meager a fare as that might be…
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Half-penny thoughts — 06nov25
hermitage calling

Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash hermitage calling,
i shuffle to mountaintops
to sweep out the debris
from my simple shack
a facet of memory,
what hint of comradery;
it is slow work with
a single black quill
but it pleases
spirits when i do—
we flamegaze the dusk
telling tales 'til dawn
between long silencesTo like/comment:
hermitage calling


